Showing posts with label Bandwagon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bandwagon. Show all posts

Thursday, 11 September 2025

Appendices N

A number of blogs have been putting out Appendix N posts as part of a bandwagon. I'm not going to do so - in part because I already have two. 

  • The first is for Punth: A Primer and may be found here
  • The second is for The Rest of All Possible Worlds and may be found here.

In similar vein, my 250th Anniversary post also has a certain resemblance to an Appendix N in its long list of media discussed here.

If anyone really was waiting with bated breath for my entry...here it is. More interesting things are on their way!


Wednesday, 3 September 2025

July-August Miscellany 2025: France, Alabama, Estar, Little Gidding and the High Dreaming Citadel

The Heptameron, Marguerite of Navarre

Frontispiece
Marguerite, from a drawing held at the Bibiotheque Nationale.

A sixteenth century collection of tales, written by a French princess and published after her death in one form or the other. Over seven days - Hepta/Emera - a collection of French nobles stranded by floods in a monastery tell each other tales. The Heptameron was unfinished on Marguerite's death: it was meant to last ten days - as Boccaccio's Decameron - and features ten storytellers. The Anglophone reader will automatically look to Chaucer, but there are a few essential differences. The storytellers are not travelling, there is no landlord of The Tabard to issue prizes and corral pilgrims (one of the French nobles is older and a sort of first among equals, but it's not the same), the story tellers are all of the same social rank (unlike Chaucer's mix: Knight, Reeve, Miller, Prioress, Cook, Pardoner...) and all the stories are of love and lust. 

It's also worth noting that all ten storytellers tell tales on each day. These run from two to fifteen pages long in a Penguin paperback edition (there is a version on Project Gutenberg), so they don't outstay their welcome. Each story is dissected and discussed by the listeners afterwards, and we get a growing sense of their characters - from the stories they tell, from how they react to the stories of others, from the rivalries and alliances made over the seven days. There are five men and five women among them. The ladies are Parlamente, Oisille, Longarine, Ennasuitte and Nomerfide; the gentlemen Hircan, Geburon, Simontault, Dagoucin and Saffredent. Some of them appear to be virtuous or vicious souls from the beginning - but all of them reveal something slightly further by being pushed and prodded by the exchange of ideas. High ideals begin to look a little shabby, or (eventually) naïve. Cynicism is revealed to be at least consistent and resolute, even when to a character's detriment. For characters who aren't actually doing much, they reveal a fair amount of themselves.

As for the stories themselves, they are a mix. There are tragic affairs, bedroom farces - and tales of adultery and betrayal. The sensibilities of the Early Modern reveal themselves, and interactions range from true love to seduction to coercion to deception to outright rape. Friars are especial targets for scorn and are held up as perilous to be around women. It's tempting to put this down to the Reformation - which Marguerite was around to see and take part in - but I would avoid doing so: firstly, because it is only Marguerite's daughter Jeanne III who becomes a Calvinist (and gives us Henri IV, who knows what Paris is worth) and secondly because the Decameron and Canterbury Tales alike have their share of less-than-pious monks, despite being a century or so before Luther. 

More vital are the clashes between male and female virtue - between the urge for conquest and the desire for purity - and all the consequences this has for devout Christians. The behaviour of monks is distressing because of the stated ideals of monks. Jacques Barzun's opinion is stated in From Dawn to Decadence.

It has been called "a masterwork of pornography" and it is certainly erotic: all are stories about the tricks and turns of love affairs, mostly illicit, But the porn-monger of today would look in vain for the physical exploits that have become commonplace in high and low fiction.

...her stories praise in all sincerity love and chastity. ... Toward the end of [the Heptameron] she verges on a sombre naturalism in which love is still a force but the erotic disappears. 

I suspect I would tell most people to read Chaucer first, but this is certainly something to pick through - especially if you like the ideas of the storytellers slowly revealing more of themselves. If you are after more information - or just comparing the jottings of a random blog with another source - then I would look to French Wikipedia before English. (Or just go to In Our Time.)

***

The Adventures of Telemachus, François Fénelon (as translated by Tobias Smollett)

A 1699 work of fiction about Bronze Age Greeks translated by an Englishman in 1776.

Telemachus, you may remember, is the son of Odysseus. He's a young man in the Odyssey, with a kingdom to save and a father to find. His teacher was Mentor - and yes, that does appear to be the origin of the word.

François Fénelon was, among other things, Archbishop of Cambrai and tutor to the Duc de Bourgogne. He had been made the latter rather unexpectedly by Louis XIV - for he had manifested Jansenist and Quietist sympathies for a good chunk of his career. As part of the young Duke's education he wrote The Adventures of Telemachus (hereafter Télémaque to distinguish character and book). This fits neatly into the gaps of the Odyssey, and shows Telemachus on several journey (Crete, Cyprus, Tyre, Egypt, southern Italy) seeking his father - in the company of Mentor, who is in fact Athena in disguise. Telemachus assists in several campaigns, is frequently praised, is taken as a slave, condescended to by Egyptians, rejects vice and learns many important lessons. 

Télémaque is unashamedly didactic. This is part of the appeal: it is being very obvious indeed about what it wants you to think. Even considering Smollett's translation work, this drips of the Baroque. The leafy Sylvan settings, the long speeches, the Classical figures put to Christian moralising - it feels like every chapter could be painted on a palace ceiling. Of course, this probably doesn't recommend itself much to a modern audience as literature. The 'first novel' is one of those things that can be debated to death, but this feels oddly unlike a novel for something written after Don Quixote

It's also worth noting that Télémaque was remarkable popular, in part for how often Mentor goes on about the need for a King to make firm allies, not embark on wars of conquest, heed advisors and be faithful to his wife. Barzun (again!) refers to the 

'picture of the government [Fénelon] thought France should have: a limited monarchy with a written constitution, representative assemblies, and a strong aristocracy discharging important duties. There should be equality before the law, public education, the mutual independence of church and state: the liberation of agriculture and trade from oppressive burdens.'

He also mentions that 'Télémaque is a classic, which until lately French children made to read.' One can see why: it's a perfect work for introducing the period, it's apparently quite good French prose, there's a good obvious story of the author managing to vex the king, and the lessons Fénelon imparts probably fit quite well with a vision of French Republican virtue. 

Should you read this if you are not one of the (presumably very many) French schoolchildren that read this blog? If you are interested in the period, you might care to read a few chapters. It fits well with the Rest of All Possible Worlds.  However, this may be a work more of France than of 'the Republic of Letters'. 

***

Crimson Tide (1995, dir. Tony Scott)

Rewatched after many years, having first caught it on my grandmother's television. Turns out I remember it pretty well!

Anyway, it's a submarine drama. Have they received the orders to launch a pre-emptive nuclear strike, or haven't they? Aboard the USS Alabama, Gene Hackman ('Captain Frank Ramsey') and Denzel Washington (his XO, 'Lt. Cmdr. Ron Hunter') will dispute this fact.

This uses the enclosed spaces and social structures of military life really well. The repetition of the missile drill scenes and the confirmations of codes works to lay out the mechanics and areas where tension can build. The fact that all the officers have to mess together regardless of how much they like one another helps; that everyone shuts up while Gene Hackman is talking - even just socially - helps. 

Gene Hackman's quite fun in this. As a rare combat veteran in the US Navy of the 1990s (no idea how true that is to life) he's apparently given a lot of leeway by his commanders, and is so is given a fairly free, ungrudging obedience by his men. He smiles, he carries a little dog around, he spouts bombast and knows he's spouting it - he grins crookedly in Denzel Washington's face. He's no Bligh or Queeg, but clearly he's not so many inches from a tinpot tyrant. But more to the point, he thinks that he needs to be - baiting and drawing on his XO in conversation, testing the line in order to reinforce it. Hackman could feel on the verge of caricature, but it's more a matter of a man twisting ever more and more to fit his chosen social niche.

It makes him a good foil for Washington, and (to some degree) a more interesting person than pillar of morality Ron Hunter. Fragments of Tarantino's comic book trivia in his dialogue only goes so far. 

***

Worldbuilding & Woolgathering and
The Wizards & the Warriors (1986) and 
The Wordsmiths & the Warguild (1987)

I recall the names of Hugh Cook's series from the back pages of other Corgi Paperbacks. The W__ & W___ format of the titles probably made me roll my eyes a bit even then, but I can vaguely recall wondering what a Weaponmaster would be, and how a coherent work of fiction with twenty protagonists could (The Wormlord, the Wazir, the Weaponmaster....) could reliably function. As far as I know, there was no conscious influence on the name of this blog (the above subtitle was irresistible).

Anyway, in the wake of the False Machine two-part review of all ten of the Chronicles of an Age of Darkness - and with a lucky second-hand find - I elected to record some thoughts on the first two, The Wizards & the Warriors (1986) and The Wordsmiths & the Warguild (1987).

For those after a fairly quick introduction to the series, I could do worse than point you towards these two summaries with a smattering of comment by Adrian Tchaikovsky.


>>LANGUAGE AND LAUGHTER

Wizards... feels like the most familiar territory. Evil wizard steals dangerous mystical artefact, good wizards and assorted fighters pursue him. The book starts fairly abruptly, with brief profiles of the main characters in the first few chapters to bring you up to speed. There are ancient wizards with significant powers, mystically named orders, castles vaster than even the Romantic dreams of the 19th century could produce, lots of slightly baggy detail about trade languages and nations. It feels a lot like you're stepping into any instance of Tolkien-imitating material from the late 20th century. (The second paragraph on Wikipedia denies that the Chronicles are High Fantasy; true enough, but they pretty clearly want to be taken for it initially - although I stop short of calling them parody or satire). 

I think this is to some degree deliberate. First, because Cook wanted to sell fantasy novels in the 1980s - and we have his own account that Wordsmiths... at least was written at the request of the publishers. Second, he probably quite liked coming up with words and deploying them in long flowing passages - or indeed, short ones. (The sun, naturally, says "Zaan." Injured legs go Balder-shalder-tok.) Third, there are these long passages of trade goods or instruments or what have you which keep knocking you off balance and away from any assumption that this is your world.

Fourth, he's being comic. This passage is from Wordsmiths...; it is situated at a party with young lovers, which is a fairly traditional topic for comedies. 

...the music escalated to a stormburst crescendo. A thrum began to gallop, a kloo honked harshly, a krympol crashed and scattered, a skittling nook began to campaign against the skavamareen and a plea whistle hooted. 

This sounds silly, and invites us to laugh - softly - at the young couple and the situation around them.  

Fifth, Cook knew he was walking into stereotypical waters (if the above passage was in a Star Trek novelisation, you wouldn't blink. If it was in a parody of a fantasy novel, you wouldn't blink). This XKCD comic sums up the attitude.


Cook obviously never saw that, but I think he would have recognised the view, and elected to just walk right through it. This is weird and offputting and you should feel weird here.  This aside from the constant narrator - Chronicler - who might well be willing to just use terminology you have no familiarity with. 

[From that same page of Wordsmiths...
"Don't laugh, gamos,' said the old man, naming Day with the Galish word for a female horse, which was unpardonably vulgar.

Clumsy? Deliberately so?]

>>TOO MANY COOKS

After finishing Wizards.... something crept into my mind from 1984. The Black Company, a dark fantasy series by the American author Glen Cook. I've seen it called or associated with the beginnings of Grimdark; I've only read the first book (The Black Company). A mercenary unit takes on service for a dark empire, that feels quite Mordor-ish (minus orcs-proper, but with plenty of Nazgul types). They are a fairly brutal and unpleasant lot, but there's a vein of loyalty and camaraderie - especially against the internal politicking of the empire that leavens this. The glimpses of ruthlessness by the resistance against them complicates matters further. It is occasionally observed at this point that Glen Cook was a veteran of the Vietnam War.

Anyway, Wizards... felt bleaker than The Black Company - or, rather, as bleak as I expected The Black Company to be. I think this is largely because everyone hates each other. That's a slight exaggeration, but are introduced in the first few chapters to to a wizarding master and apprentice who hate each other and a pair of warriors who hate the Prince they serve and are becoming increasingly caustic to one another. Memorable later is the sheep-rearing father who takes in his sons (a priest whose temple has been burnt down and a mercenary). He shelters them and feeds them, but really thinks very little indeed of them, and isn't shy of showing it.

Even the humble, practical wizard Miphon presumably spends the first half of Wizards... really frustrated with his magical colleagues (and knows that he can't fulfil the mission without them - he might not be frustrated by his own powerlessness to a point of mania, but it isn't a comfortable state of affairs. The Miphon who helps win the day is a different man to the Miphon of the first half-dozen chapters). The hunter Blackwood may love his wife Mystrel dearly, but hates his rulers and is horrified by the warriors around him. 

This changes slowly by the end - after much death, and harrowing journeys, and war. 

>>BRITISHISMS

There are at least two on-the-nose (at least, on my nose) T.S. Eliot references in Wizards... and Wordsmiths... . Mystrel, wife of Blackwood comes from Little Gidding. At one point in Wordsmiths... the thunder says 'Gronnammadammadamyata', almost as in The Waste Land.

There is a reference to Ashmolean jade being traded on the Salt Road in Wizards.... . A character in Wordsmiths... is named Cromarty. There is a city called Runcorn. This sort of thing apparently doesn't stop (click the following link if you are unfamiliar with Liverpool). 

Hugh Cook spent his first few years in England, but soon went to live around the Pacific - where he seems to have spent most of the rest of his live, living in Kiribati, New Zealand and Japan. What are we to make of these uses of British place names? Not too much, I think. The Little Gidding thing certainly doesn't apply that much thematically. I would just observe it as on of Cook's peculiarities.

>>WORDSMITHS GONE BEFORE

Wordsmiths.... traces the bumbling, occasionally heroic journey of the young man Togura Poulaan, son of the leader of the Warguild. A series of events leads to him losing his young love and being thrown into a quest on behalf of the Wordsmiths, who have a mysterious and highly unpredictable device of the ancient world that responds to language. 

Togura goes through any number of distressing events, sometimes intersecting with the plot of Wizards..... until he returns home, to meet with further shocks and misadventures. The whole narrative, with the rube of a protagonist, manipulative scholars, unyielding patriarchs and episodes in remote communities feels rather like Jack Vance's Dying Earth in places - though Togura is a more charming prospect than Cugel ever was. Voltaire's Candide is probably another great comparison, though there's no real Pangloss equivalent. 

[There is a passage attacking a certain flavour of anthropology that Voltaire might well back, of course.]

Though there are other influences. The image of a petty king obsessed by breeding pigs and his obese, terrifyingly strong daughter with her vast appetites might come right out of Rabelais. Though if it were ever accurately put to screen, it would only bring to mind South Park. (Conceivably, Pasolini in full-bore Decameron mode could also successfully portray it).

There's also a few lines of pure bureaucratic legalese that might have come out of any number of British comedies - and contrast the squalor of the town with the political ambitions of its rulers. The line about 'a special tax on Barons' might have come out of the mouth of an Oliver Postgate character. 

As you may have gathered, there's something frothier and lighter in Wordsmiths... than Wizards.... (with some notable exceptions - the cult in the ruined city, for instance). I certainly read it quicker.  

>>AM I GOING TO CONTINUE WITH COOK?

Well, I think I'd like to read The Women and the Warlords as Cook's planned second book. I would definitely like to read The Worshippers and the Way for comparison purposes with Punth. But that may take a while. 

***

Last year I reviewed and praised Dave Greggs's Investigating Censor. There is a new edition - the 'Steppe Cataphract Edition' available (hot off the digital presses!) on Itch.io. This incorporates some of the extra adventures he wrote after the first edition, as well as acknowledging my review work and feedback. If you think this makes anything I write on the subject now tainted by proximity......well, maybe, but that's been the case since I wrote The Cape of Four Pleasances (which I ought to compile into a PDF sometime soon).

Anyway, there's also a new adventure, titled Impermanence

This is a useful new adventure - largely, I should say because it offers an example of a different tone. The opulent splendour and violence of general IC fades a bit into the background in Impermanence. Indeed, there's an extent to which it feels more - well - hardcore. 

The Investigating Censors are deployed to a section of the coast called the Fringe of Moments. They are given a sumptuous welcome, intended to deploy them against the current rulers' enemies. There's an element of paranoia that develops from this, with not only hidden (and distressing) Ultracarcerist dens, but also human-puppeteering parasites. (Perhaps I've been thinking too much on Alien.) Environmental touches - like a silk palace suspended over a pitch-black mysterious chasm - add to this. 

Certain elements - as the parasites and the chasm - are carefully left unexplained. There's a predicted order of events (which is very carefully not a railroad) which laves out any dead ends or potential backwater encounters - but that's easy enough to pull together from the base game. 

In any case, the atmosphere and imagery, especially the Jade Sword Saint and the Cargo Labyrinth, work beautifully. There's a sense that even the supernatural powers on your side, or that oppose the Cult of Protection, won't quite heal the Fringe of Moments. It may even harm. (There's some slight alteration to the details of the High Dreaming Citadel that helps this.) This brings to mind - in a good way - Qelong

***

Garamondia have just put out an index after 150 posts. It's quite a collection for a little over a year's work and an excellent place to start an archive binge.

Tuesday, 31 December 2024

Returning to the Veins of the Earth

Patrick Stuart of the False Machine has announced a remastering of Veins of the Earth. I imagine most readers already know what this is; for those who don't - well, it's a vision of the 'Underdark' of D&D fame as examined and remodelled through the lenses of A) Real world caving expeditions, B) Geological time and C) Nightmares, possibly relating to the above.

If you haven't read it, then I can recommend it. If you want someone else, then here's the Questing Beast review

Anyway, I've been rereading it over the last week and a half, with an eye towards the remaster - and here are some thoughts.

The Pariahs of the Earth: It's almost impossible to imagine any worthwhile changes to this bestiary. The nature of the various monsters, the art, the assorted off-putting or unsettling or downright mystifying descriptions rather makes Veins. Are they difficult to use versus a pack of level one Goblins? Of course, but one rather has to push the boundaries a little if a work is to stand out at all. (To say nothing of the all-important conceptual density.) Cluttering this up with a low-level goblin / rat / other substitute to carve your way through would be a mistake.

Some of the entries have Treasure or Trophy paragraphs (as, say, the Scissor Fish or Fossil Vampire) - I would like to see these appear for every entry. Not that every entry needs them, but it would be a way to say 'These are here, look out for them'. To point to something of mine for a moment - the Gifts and Trophies entries for Humanity's Elementals is a model I like.

I would also like to know how some of these beasts climb and navigate. Sometimes that's in the text, sometimes it can be clearly derived from descriptions (the salamander-men have two legs and two arms and will climb more like human beings that snakes).

Cultures in the Veins: Likewise, it is very difficult indeed to imagine changing these. Things like the Dvargir are so very emblematic of Veins that changing them would be a mistake. (The dErO are charming, as always.) The Gnonmen don't quite strike the same note, but we have had a hint at a potential remodelling in the form of the RayMen, whose J.B.S Haldane-influenced society strikes the right note of alienness demanded by the Veins.

What would be useful is a separate table appended to these entries of other items from that cultural - EG, the Dvargir Carbide Lamp. The index goes a certain way to do this, but could be broken down more - X, X items, X locations and so forth. If adding or shoring up these entries, some other general purpose details might be good (that the Dvargir capital is City 1A is good, and interesting to learn through a treasure table - but what is the general pattern of Dvargir settlements?). I admit, that too many details of some entries may be less of a boon than hoped for.

Likewise, I suppose - how does Culture XYZ use the light and the darkness?

Generating the Veins: The bit that strangles me a little here is the Large Scale Maps. The overall principle makes sense once explained, but I would be interested in an extra part in the worked example in the Appendices. One more page, explaining 'This is how I decided that this section here is an Eight Mile Waterfall' (or a series of cascades, or...). As with the rest of Veins, no-one has to act make the same decisions, but knowing how someone else has made those decisions is useful. (I may have to do a worked example here!)

Some other, less general points:

  • The Gegenschein - how many moths are going to appear in your work, Patrick? (The trilobites are different, I know that.)
  • In Appendix III there's talk of a settlement generator in the sequel. I know that this isn't quite a sequel, but some settlement or trading post details would be good. What food and lumes are traded? What games and forms of entertainment are shared in the Veins? What card game would a dErO, an Ælf-Adal and a Substratal all enjoy playing?
  • Are the Zombie Coral building anything?
  • When the current font is in bold, some of the detail of serifs is lost and takes a moment to identify - see especially As and Ms. 

***

I'm not certain that I'm necessarily the best person to answer the question of what to do with Veins - I've not tried to run it, and I've had it in my headspace for too long. But I am interested in seeing what comes of it, and look forward to seeing it remastered.

Friday, 21 June 2024

Lewis and Saturn in the 41st Millennium

If at the height of heaven Saturn's
cold and harmful star were lighting his black fires.....

Pharsalia, Bk 1, Lucan, trans. Susan H. Braund

....at length old Saturn lifted up 
His faded eyes, and saw his kingdom gone,
And all the gloom and sorrow of the place....

Hyperion, Keats

I made a long comment on this post on Monsters and Manuals. noisms invited me to expand on it. 

1) noisms suggests an approach to Warhammer 40,000 - at least as far as roleplay is concerned - rooted in the theology of Christian speculative fiction authors as Lewis, Tolkien and Gene Wolfe. This wouldn't necessarily be apologetics, but would round out some of the ideas suggested by the setting. A 40k roleplaying game in which the PCs 'try to do good'. Wolfe (not unreasonably) is suggested as the most obvious point of comparison.

2)  It's tempting, taking that 'try to do good' remark, to imagine levering Pollyanna into the Grim Darkness of the Far Future. I would say noisms doesn't mean this, and further that the proposed 40k RPG would want to be of a tone with existing 40k. Further, I would suggest that there is a degree of material that can be found in the work of C.S. Lewis that fits this rather well. 

3) For completeness, I shall mention that Lewis did write about dystopian future states - notably in the lecture series collected as The Abolition of Man. As interesting as that might be, the future state of controlling pallid intelligences and hollowed-out underlings is a poor match with the Medievalism and decay of the 41st Millennium. An age of chains, not an age of rot; a panopticon-world, not a dungeon-world. 

Now, there's a quiet tendency to talk about the Chronicles of Narnia in terms of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The events, tone and theme of that work are (relatively) bright. The instantly recognisable scene of Mr Tumnus contributes to this, as does the inclusion of Father Christmas and the repeated phrase of  'Always Winter, Never Christmas'. Narnia is peopled by talking animals, not human beings. While this tone isn't consistent through the entirety of LWW, this has a touch more of the childlike in it than later Chronicles. Where we might look is to that final work, The Last Battle.*

4) The theologian and literary critic Michael Ward wrote a book in 2008 called Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis. This is not an entirely obscure work - I'm not revealing anything very special here - the BBC made a documentary based on it and Ward himself is moderately prominent. 

Anyway, Planet Narnia lays out much of Lewis's writings on the seven heavens** of Medieval Cosmology - the Moon, Sun, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. Certainly Lewis (as one who taught Medieval and Renaissance literature) knew of these and wrote about them in non-fiction - see Ch. 3 of The Discarded Image. He wrote poetry on them - in part, it seems, as an intellectual exercise. The Cosmic or Ransom Trilogy was written in the 1940s, after the discovery of Uranus, Neptune and Pluto but focuses on the Medieval planets (the one reference seemingly to them makes it appear that they are older and have ceased to support life or relevance). The various planetary geniuses that go by the term Oyéresu (singular Oyarsa) have in them a resemblance to the Classical deities as rendered by Medieval minds.

Ward's thesis is that the varying tones in the Chronicles of Narnia are attributable to each book being connected to one of the seven heavens. 

--At this point, some of you may be wondering which book is connected with which planet. Well, if I may - please don't look that up now! Even granted that I've given the game away regarding Saturn in my original comment and in this post, I would be fascinated to know what your guesses would be. Answers in the comments.

I don't propose to lay out his full argument here, but it's a fascinating lens to examine them through. Some of you may be mulling over at this point 'Does this mean Lewis believed in astrology?' - Ward, of course, answers this. I might compress his response and my own thus: more than someone who refers to a person or thing as 'Lawful Evil', 'Chaotic Good', &c, but less than he did in the Trinity or Newton's Laws of Motion.

5) So, The Last Battle is Saturnine. What does that mean?

Myn is the ruine of the hye halles, 
The falling of the toures and of the walles
(Incidentally, thanks to the Middle English in Traitor General and the presence of a pardoner in The Armour of Contempt I'm pretty certain that Abnett knows his Chaucer.)

Quoting Lewis in The Discarded Image, we get : 'In the earth his influence produces lead; in men, the melancholy complexion; in history, disastrous events....He is connected with sickness and old age.....A good account of his promoting fatal accidents, pestilence, treacheries and ill luck in general occurs in [Chaucer's] The Knight's Tale....sometimes called The Greater Infortune, Infortuna Major'

'My dere doghter Venus,' quod Saturne, 
'My cours, that hath so wyde for to turne, 
Hath more power than wot any man. 
Myn is the drenching in the see so wan; 
Myn is the prison in the derke cote; 
Myn is the strangling and hanging by the throte; 
The murmure, and the cherles rebelling, 
The groyning, and the pryvee empoysoning: 
I do vengeance and pleyn correccioun 
Whyl I dwelle in the signe of the leoun. 
Myn is the ruine of the hye halles, 
The falling of the toures and of the walles 
Up-on the mynour or the carpenter. 
I slow Sampsoun in shaking the piler; 
And myne be the maladyes colde, 
The derke tresons, and the castes olde; 
My loking is the fader of pestilence.

The Knight's Tale, Chaucer
(Try reading it aloud.)

But Saturn is not Satan. Exactly. (Likewise, Jove is not God). See Bernardus Silvestris.

...the Usiarch Saturn, an ancient to be most strongly condemned, cruel and detestable in his wickedness savagely inclined to harsh and bloody acts. As many sons as his most fertile wife had borne him he had devoured newly born, cutting short the beginning of life....how destructive a threat he would pose to the future race of men by the poisonous and deadly property of his planet. While Nature, after observing his labours, judged him harsh and treacherous, yet she believed that the old man must be respected, as it was said that Chronos was the son of eternity and the father of time.

Cosmographia, Bernardus Silvestris, (Microcosmus 5.5-6),  trans. Winthrop Wetherbee

There is no avoiding Saturn, though one may escape the grasp of the Devil. His influence is more woeful than foul. 

Of course, this picture is complicated by Virgil - the Aeneid in Book VIII has a passage describing a Golden Age brought about by Saturn, as does Eclogue 4. These appear to be images that pre-date the melding of Roman and Greek myth. On a practical note, the Temple of Saturn in the Roman Forum was the state treasury - one doesn't place one's treasure in the keeping of a loathsome god. See also the Saturnalia, the festival with a brief return to an age of plenty and equality.

To turn (naturally) from Virgil to Dante, we ascend to the Paradiso. Dante and Beatrice pass through the spheres of Paradise, each associated with a Planet. Saturn is not named - Longfellow refers to the 'Seventh Splendour' in his translation (Canto XXI). His sphere is that of contemplatives - Dante meets with St Benedict and St Peter Damian.

There are also some fascinating extracts on Saturn from the astrologers/astronomers of the Islamic world (as Abu Ma'shar al-Balkhi), that were transmitted into Christian Europe. Some of these are familiar enough in terms of their content (melancholy, misfortune, cold, plague), though the level of detail is different to the literary uses of Saturn.*** Book Three of the Picatrix or Ghāyat al-Ḥakīm, however, (in addition to the claim that the image of Saturn is 'the shape of a black man wrapped in a green cloak with a dog-like head and a sickle in his hand') makes the claim that his is the 'retentive virtue' (Cf. Mars and the 'attractive virtue', or Jupiter and the 'augmentative virtue'). This is interesting as a Saturnine neutral quality, and applies itself equally to Time gnawing away at men, and to the holding or maintaining of wealth.

6) I doubt Lewis read the Picatrix - literature, not magic was his field - but it's an interesting contrast and part of the wider scheme. Either way, let's talk about Lewis's Saturn. 

By his own account, Lewis's own generation - who fought in the Great War and then wrote an awful lot about it - were born under Saturn. However, he denied the final authority of Saturn, the claim of the universe to be 'Saturnocentric'. Quoting Ward, that quality which Lewis called Saturnocentric 'means astringent, stern, tough, unmerry, uncomfortable, unconciliatory, and serious, though not necessarily profound or virtuous.' 

40k has of course, been quite willing to make reference to the Great War.

That Hideous Strength features a scene with the decent of the planetary influences into the manor at St Anne's. The introduction to Saturn goes like this:

All thought of that [the cold outside]: of stiff grass, hen-roosts, darks places in the middle of woods, graves. Then of the sun's dying, the Earth gripped, suffocated, in airless cold, the black sky lit only with stars. And then, not even stars: the heat-death of the universe, utter and final blackness of nonentity from which Nature knows no return.

Meanwhile, at the focus of Saturn's descent, things are different.

Saturn, whose name in the heavens is Lurga, stood in the Blue Room. His spirit lay upon the house, or even on the whole Earth, with a cold pressure such as might flatten the very orb of Tellus to a wafer. Matched against the lead-like burden of his antiquity the other gods themselves felt young and ephemeral. It was a mountain of centuries sloping up from the highest antiquity we can conceive, up and up like a mountain whose summit never comes into sight, not to eternity where the thought can rest, but into more and still more time, into freezing wastes and silence of unnameable numbers. It was also strong like a mountain; its age was no mere morass of time where imagination can sink in reverie, but a living, self-remembering duration which repelled lighter intelligences from its structure as granite flings back waves, itself unwithered and undecayed but able to wither any who approach it unadvised. [Characters] suffered a sensation of unendurable cold; and all that was strength in Lurga became sorrow as it entered them.

Ward mentions at this stage the 'godly sorrow' of St Paul in 2 Corinthians 7.8-11. If there is a Saturnine human character in That Hideous Strength, it is the Ulster scientist and rationalist Andrew MacPhee - a serious-minded type, sceptical of some of Ransom's wilder claims, apparently a happily unattached bachelor. By the conclusion, he is dressed in an 'ash-coloured and slightly monastic looking robe' - once again, note the reference to contemplatives. He may be a rough tribute to Lewis's tutor William Kirkpatrick.

An adaptation of Ward's chapter in Planet Narnia on Saturn may be found here. Those who recall that work will remember the scenes of darkness and despair, the leaden weight, the deceptions, the appearance of Father Time - to say nothing of the death of so many of its characters. The Last Battle, as he notes, ends with the return of the Jovial. We may compare Aeneid VIII here - Saturn's golden age comes after his displacement by Jupiter.

7) Fine: of the Seven Heavens, Saturn may be most apt for 40k. But how do we have a virtuous struggle - and even a victory - under Saturn?

First of all, to be Saturnine is different than to be Martial. This is not just a matter of degree - Infortuna Major and Minor - but also of quality. The bracing contest and clash of arms under Mars is different to the crushing weight of years under Saturn. This also means, I would say, less chance of an ongoing series. The regiment going on to another world, another battle. The contest must be final.

The protagonists must, I suspect, be on the defensive - or a 'best defence is a good offence' endeavour. But that which it preserves must be consistent with the Saturnine. A lonely outpost of survivors, a hospital of the maimed, a hermetically sealed library or a depopulated mega-structure, its furnaces and power plants finally cooling. Player Characters should be (as in the Saturnocentric quote above) stern and unconciliatory, though for 'Let justice be done though the heavens fall' reasons. Contest of arms should be costly and uncertain. 

"I tell you naught for your comfort,
Yea, naught for your desire,
Save that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.

"Night shall be thrice night over you,
And heaven an iron cope.
Do you have joy without a cause,
Yea, faith without a hope?"

The Ballad of the White Horse, Bk. 1, GK Chesterton

I said before that this would this would involve 'a bitter struggle, despair, trudging, misfortune'. Trudging and footslogging is often rather neglected by 40k, at least when it comes to Space Marines; but for our purposes, an emphasis on fatigue and becoming overwhelmed is necessary - which takes the fun out of being a muscular super soldier. (Admittedly, the later Horus Heresy books had good moments of this.)

To repeat myself again, 'the triumph is in some distant preservation for a coming dawn (...a New Sun). Resting on the association with contemplatives and monasticism, perhaps we see an iteration of [the conclusion to] A Canticle for Liebowitz.' Interestingly, while the Imperium of Man is the natural fit for all the above, it strikes me that the Eldar would also fit quite well. Their tragedy and decline is as pronounced, of course, but we have not the short lives and brutal deaths of humanity, but the slow dwindling, like the space elves they are. 

Coupled to this is their method of preservation, the spiritstones. An Eldar soul may be retained in one of these rather than falling to Slaanesh in the Warp. They are gathered into the Infinity Circuits of their space-faring craftworlds. This does not appear to be much of a paradise, in so much as we know much of it. Death, but deliverance from damnation; an eternity of contemplation. Life for survivors among depopulated cities or amidst distant echoes of old friends - who must still be preserved. Of the craftworlds, Iyanden may express this best.

Anyway, I think that indicates ample scope for the Saturnine as a theme or mode in 40k. 


*Please assume, as in the original comment, that I am aware of some of the discourse and criticisms of The Last Battle and that I can add nothing the informed would find relevant or interesting to that here.

**Discussed and employed here before!

***See this article for some extracts. Also, the association of Saturn and the Jews, which may be the result of the connection between Saturn's day and the Sabbath. 

Tuesday, 12 December 2023

How to Read the False Machine

TO REVEAL AN ANSWER: The piece of writing at the end of the last post was derived, basically, from some fairly negative and somewhat fantastical feelings about the experience of reading the Horus Heresy books. With a little element of the King in Yellow mixed in.

Roboute Guilliman: You, brother, should remove your armour.

Horus: Indeed?

Rogal Dorn: Indeed, it is time. We have all set aside our pauldrons except you.

Horus: I wear no pauldrons.

Roboute: [aside, to Rogal] No pauldrons? No pauldrons!

And on that revelation, trailing corposant, I move to another lurid book.


CONTEXT: P J Stuart, author of the blog False Machine, a version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight  and several interesting RPG products ran a Kickstarter to take a majority of that blog material and preserve it in a weighty tome. Behold, the above. It is as larger as many editions of the Complete Works of Shakespeare, if a little lighter. (Quite a pleasing weight, really.) The cover is a distinct orange, with letters that seem to shift as you read them. That might just be a faulty bedside lamp, or fatigue on the part of Yr. Hmbl. Crrspndt., but I wouldn't put it past Patrick to have hexed it somehow. Illustrations from several artists, often former collaborators with PJS. Fascinating set of marbled end papers by Scrap Princess.

....but I don't need this. I've read a bunch of the original posts, even commented on them. (Some comments are reproduced in the text of the book above. It's remotely possibly I'm there, I haven't checked thoroughly yet. Full Disclosure, &c, &c.)

Anyway, if a charming visitor to my snug garret were to ask over a glass of Oloroso 'My dear, what is that fascinating book on your shelves?', how would I answer them?

[QUICK NOTE: the Blog is False Machine. The Book is Speak, False Machine, whatever it says on the cover. Occasionally, I'm going to need to compare the two so they need different names.]

MOVING ON: On one level, everything in False Machine is either an RPG product or fuel for RPGs. Patrick Stuart is a man who will read and review works of fantasy - EG, Gormenghast or The Worm Ouroborous, or histories of the sort of period that have inspired fantasy fiction, as A Distant Mirror  - as readily as a work on the Psychoanalysis of Fire. This isn't to posit this work as merely fuel for the capital-P Product, but it is to indicate that there is a final aim in place for much of the work in here, a set of objectives. 

Now, most of the stuff that went into the actual books isn't in Speak, False Machine. The posts for Veins of the Earth became Veins of the Earth. Good thing too. But this references character and action on the part of the author. So, a newcomer should think on that.

The various articles have been changed slightly. Spelling mistakes and ungainly turns of phrase have not been corrected, we are assured. But other things have changed. Some comments are included, many are not. Illustrations that offer context have gone. See for instance the post called on False Machine 'Five.. Four... Three.. Two... ONE!' It must be shorn of the referential images that indicate the origins of the work without interrupting the flow of the fiction, or the end table that lays out the similarities in several works. It must rely on the title alone, which may be reference enough

Of course, one understands why such images are not included, but something may be lost. To refer back to my own work at the top of the page - how clear was that little mystery?

The material is not only presented in a reduced form, it is also framed differently. Blog posts that may have been weeks or months apart can now be put side by side, and there is benefit in this. Now we can read all about the Horus Heresy back to back (Hoorah?).

Back to back, and also in two columns. This sounds silly to make into a point in a new paragraph, but if you're used to a post being in one column, with a predictable set of links and gadgets at the side, it is a little strange to see it in two columns, and have the experience of your eye wandering across.

TO CONTINUE: It is very online. Sometimes that phrase is used as an insult: in this case, it is basically descriptive. False Machine was and is a web-log. It should not surprise a reader that Speak, False Machine bears the hallmarks of the internet.

There's a freedom of tone. Speak, False Machine has a good number of reviews. There is also a great deal of flippancy, plenty of cursing and a pool of references deriving from online cultures (hence a section titled 'Weebery'.) As good as these reviews may be, they would not appear in this way in the pages of a high-brow weekly. Certainly not at this length: word limits online are a very different thing to those in print. Quotes can be longer, explorations more discursive.

Thus, the rough set of points or ideas expressed by the (hilarious) 'WWII - Written and Directed by JJ Abrams' could be expressed by the sort of less strait-laced weekly magazine, but would probably not take that form or be expressed to that degree and so would be X degrees of magnitude less memorable. Now, do I prefer the rough-hewn original of that post on False Machine, or the smoother-formatted version in Speak, False Machine? The former has my fondness as the original, but the latter is superior. The evenness of the columns and text allow the wit to shine that much more.

To speak also on something I have kept at arm's length - there is also a portion of interpersonal drama. False Machine allowed for others to comment on it: it is a social medium of a kind. Further, Patrick Stuart has and has had long-term collaborators. It was honest and correct to include it - certainly, I might have been tempted to leave it out. 

So, a mix of material. Review, essay, fiction, comment, verse. Sometimes niche, sometimes universal, usually interesting. 

But is it any good?

Yes. Some of it was probably more interesting to live than to read about, but this is not a Curate's Egg. 

Is it a book you would have lying around your own house? Is it a book that you would even wish your wife or your servants to read?

Well, I have no wife, but should a paramour in the midst of a certain charming entanglement of limbs and digits start talking about the Dover Beach Expanded Universe - well, my heart's beating would doubtless reach a furious tempo.

Can you not give us any real criticisms?

I suppose it's a little odd to be holding a weighty tome full of stuff that has the internet aura of disposability, but to that's more an issue with context than content. In any case, this is less offensive in that regard than some books of Current Events I've seen reproducing an activists social media posts.

I see. Thank you, Mr, umm, ... -

Tuesday, 3 January 2023

Bandwagon: The Bloggies and the Rule of Five

Hope the New Year is treating you all well thus far. 

Anyway, a time-sensative (hah) post addressing other blogs.

***

Prismatic Wasteland has proclaimed the Bloggies - 'Awards for some of the best OSR/Post-OSR blog posts to come out in 2022. There will be five awards: Best Theory Blogpost, Best Gameable Blogpost, Best Advice Blogpost, Best Review Blogpost, and, the biggest one, Best Blogpost.' Voting is, I understand, on Twitter. 

[I am not now on Twitter and have not been in the past, under this nom-de-plume or any others. The current moment would be an unlikely one to join.]

Now, this may be of interest to you as a reader of this blog. It crossed my path when I found out I was on the list for my review of Demon Bone Sarcophagus. I suspect that this made the list because it was a fairly prompt, timely review that made it onto The Glatistant. I'm not certain this was my best piece for this blog*, and it's certainly not better than some of the competition, which includes False Machine and Against the Wicked City. Anyway, here's hoping this persists. I quite like these whole blog arrangement.

***

Thought I'd try applying the Rule of Five discussed here to The Rest of All Possible Worlds. I suspect that this is better suited to smaller regions than Calliste, but let's give it a try anyway.

Five Quincentenaries Ago: [.....millennia seems like too much.]

  • Procophon has the Majestic Vision.
  • The City of Horato begins to flourish.
  • Some of the first known grimoires are received into the Library of the Supreme Satrap.

Five Centuries Ago:

  • The Kingdom of Pavaisse takes on something like its present boundaries (plus the Prizelands, but minus Joachimsland).
  • The School of Malicarn institutes the role of the Overseer.
  • Lhulache of Laldiel pens her Great Rule and Compromise, which becomes the popularly accepted model for colleges of magic thereafter.
  • Lictors in Datresse storm the Guildhall and throw fifty alderman into the river.

Five Generations Ago: [Generation = 30 years. Seems a better unit of time than Score for this]

  • The Printing Press becomes viable and widespread in Calliste.
  • Serious competitors emerge to the School of Malicarn, with their own interpretations of the Majestic Vision.
  • Sailors reach what will one day be the Buccaneers' Archipelago and (more importantly) decide to return next year.

Five Decades Ago:

  • Emperor Boniface II marries Beatrice von Dottore.
  • The first Anti-Grimorean pamphlets are published.
  • The Armies of the Sublime Prince retreat from the Arpadhian plain.

Five Weeks Ago: (but you might only be learning of these now)

  • The Governor of Transmontane Tsymric is recalled on charges of corruption.
  • A second permanent Malmeric factory is granted land by a Prince of the Alamgir Empire.
  • The first Manual of Nematism is issued by the Grand Academy of Caspianstadt.
  • Tabulators set up the 'Society of Elevated Grocers' in Datresse.

Go forth into Calliste, and perhaps beyond!

Speaking of The Rest of All Possible Worlds, I have elected to update the Mechanics and Gazette post with details of the various magical debates.


*Not that I have any definite idea what actually is, of course. Suggestions in the comments, I guess.

Friday, 14 October 2022

Demon Bone Sarcophagus: Some Thoughts

A recent edition to my library is Demon Bone Sarcophagus, the latest production from Patrick Stuart (of False Machine) and Scrap Princess (of Monster Manual Sewn From Parts). The two have cooperated jolly successfully on several other things (Deep Carbon Observatory, Veins of the Earth, Fire on the Velvet Horizon), so I rather wanted to see what this adventure would be like.

[I imagine that everyone who reads this little scrap of the internet knows who Patrick Stuart is, but I do sort of feel I have to for the one lonely stranger who wandered in out of the cyber-cold.]

Of course, I wanted to see it so badly I backed the Kickstarter and you are reading the words penned by a TRAITOROUS CLERK. Beyond that, I'm a semi-regular correspondent with Stuart via blog comments and so forth. I don't think anyone was coming here drawn by the steely-white glare of my absolute objectivity, but that's how things stand, anyway. 

***

I'm not certain one should really try to describe what's going on in Demon Bone Sarcophagus (hereafter DBS). The discovery is part of the charm. Suffice it to say that there is a underground tomb to house the titular sarcophagus, ancient fire elementals, corporate overlords, china dolls and baboons. As you pick through the below there will be mild spoilers, at least.

***



***

The most obvious thing to mention and get out of the way: DBS had a troubled production, and the final product is less than perfect. Troubled production sounds like a euphemism - but it's merely the result of the sort of international disruption of which 2022 has seen plenty.  

There are errors in the text. Typos, portions outright missing, a few misplaced paragraph breaks. Page 60 refers to a carnifex where I'm fairly certain it should refer to a carnyx. Mind you, a trumpet that makes the sound of butchered swine and tortured minds* seems like a very Patrick thing.

I can't pretend I much like this, but I also can't pretend that that sort of regularity was what I was reading DBS for in the first place. The False Machine needs somebody to work on this - Obnoxious Pedantic Smilodon, perhaps?

***

Triangles: I hope you like them. It's thematically apt (the Fire Triangle) and acts as a form of constraint: the room shapes and entrances are going to be near-identical so the contents and inhabitants are what matters. The back fly-leaf has a player-facing map that gives away the structure upfront, even.

It would interest me to see how many dungeons or dungeon-like things come from this set in strict geometrical megastructures.  Crossing hexagon after hexagon of some vast hive. The megastructure angle is interesting, and ties DBS to Deep Carbon Observatory (hereafter DCO) - not just as portions of some elemental quartet of adventures, but the presence of the great chasm in the Observatory and the vast dam echo the fifty-foot triangles. 

***

DBS starts, well, rather in medias res. Not only do Our Heroes come across the site of an awful massacre (somewhat like No Country for All Men**), but it ties into the history of exploitation by the Frictionless Blue Glass Merchant Company and the vast tomb complex below them, which itself has been used and abused by different parties. It's all so much that it requires three pages from the charming Backstory Gastropod to explain it. Not that the energy built up by all this is discharged all at once, but unfurls gradually as the players (hopefully) get deeper and deeper into the tomb.

This is a Patrick Stuart speciality by now: see the beginning of DCO, or Silent Titans - "You Fools! My Dementia Bomb has wrecked your very minds!" One suspects that he knows this, and that this is why the proposed next part of Broken Fire Regime will be a heist - a matter of careful premeditated plans and calculations. Presumably. Until it all falls apart.  

I quite like all the backstory and strange opening scenario. It makes the whole thing more than a glorified travel guide

***

Speaking of the backstory, the Ancients and the Nobility of Fire are good. There is an element of the appropriate alienness to this. Part of this is down to the third sex, I suppose, but really it seeps in throughout: the vast strangeness of the war against the ice, the toys and treasures sealed up in the tomb, the shadows of power.

The characters encountered throughout are all quite nicely drawn. Some are notable as whizz-bang fascinating sights, but others have a little more to them.

The Ice Demons are highly unpleasant and persistent in their own hyper-focused varieties of particular cruelty. This is so much worse than most depictions of a supernatural generalised or abstract malevolence.

Anaracket Bonvive...Hmm. Well. There are a few books I have noted over the past few years, speculative fiction, that depict (or attempt to do so) a flawed female protagonist grappling with a vast (usually imperial) power structure. Some I've only read the blurb of, or a review, or other word of mouth. Some I've read, and quite possibly enjoyed. Ms Bonvive strikes me as in this vein, but living up to the hints of the publicity material of the above books. Twitchy, rebellious, paranoid, destructive of self and others.

***

I'm not good at talking about art. Or I don't think I'm very good at talking about art. Patrick Stuart has by this point, worked with artists other than Scrap Princess (IE, Dirk Detweiler Leichty) but their collabotation is pretty well estalished by this time. It's difficult to conceive of illustrations of Stuart's material not in the many-lined scrawly style Scrap has worked to develop. John Blanche or Klaus Kopinski maybe, some of Blake's neater stuff; for somebody cleaner perhaps this chap's stuff - though that's a little close to the 'dark, grimy painterly' style referenced here.*** (Wish I had a better term for that.)

Anyway, despite the Scrap-typical spiky images of the baboons or the angular scorched Flamethrower Skeletons or the hook-monster Reductor, there are some interesting variations on line and colour, as in the Obsidian Assassin or Boreala or Mordant Kaust.

This is on top of the twining fire-language glyphs and murals. These bridge the gap between intelligibility and alienness well. While looking like tongues of flame (Oh....). Map segments keep the overall big illustration designs while compressing it as suitable for presentation as part of a larger scheme. Actually, reading DBS over felt like staring at one of the more complex Gothic cathedrals and trying to identify saints and kings and twining floral motifs - and then somebody guides you through it all statue by statue with a telescope, and then you can step back and see the whole design again. Very different from, say, DCO's journey upriver or the slowly unwrapping Silent Titans.

Design and layout is not simple - but neither should it be. The colour and font choice fits the impressions of what is being discussed beautifully. There's a suitably arcane twisty font for titles and a few shades of beige and umber for backgrounds that hint at fire without trying to make a book with vermillion pages. Praise is presumably due to Maria Ku.

***

Maybe I could say more, but to attempt a summary... this isn't really like anything else you have on your shelves, even (really) other things by Patrick Stuart. Harping on originality when we have been told for centuries that there is nothing new under the sun isn't so very useful, but at least this shake of the kaleidoscope put the sequins in a very pretty arrangement. Take a look while there are still physical copies available. 



*Doubtless the first album of a Ruritanian Death Metal group.

**Josh Brolin sees the morass of dead baboons, wounded sloths, &c and mutters to himself "Bugger this for a game of Tiny Knights."

***Degenesis (a name I kept forgetting until I started saving the link) uses a lot of this


Friday, 22 April 2022

A Double Century and Noisy Sheep Shearing

This is post number two hundred, so something different from usual: you shall hear me speak, interviewing noisms of Monsters and Manuals - the occasion being the Kickstarter for In The Hall of the Third Blue Wizard, a brand new 'zine with a variety of contributors.  

 

Things discussed include: 
I hope the above will be of some interest, and look forward to another hundred such posts!

Monday, 31 May 2021

Of Faith and Fences - A Visit to Saxherm

What is this? A few days ago Christmas Knight over at Grand Commodore threw together a 'Maximalist dreampunk weird fiction city-state creator'. I got out the dice, and over the course of a sunny afternoon put together the following. 

The below was originally posted on Grand Commodore in the comments of the original post. I have presented it here in one package, with screenshots of some of the comments for context. It will be of use to read or at least skim the city-state creator first.

A herm is, of course, a sort of statue 
- and saxum, saxi is Latin for rock.
An unsubtle name, but it sounds right.
[Source]


(2) Name Afterwards: Saxherm

Government

70          69-71 Religious Order


Religious Demography

65      61-75 Majority/Minority                     5%


Religions

74         74-76 Exemplar Polytheism (Maj)

95            93-97 Tutelary Deity   (Min)


Sources of Wealth

54     53-55 International Black Marketeer         3. Stolen goods

11         8-11 Beauty                                                            4. Ubiquitous statuary 


Distinctive Cultural Elements

94     93-100 Traditional Costumes  


Prevailing Conditions

53             52-53 Massive Economic Surplus

69         68-69 Predatory Entity                                 4. Destroying their memories


Biome

22     22-25 Distributed over several walled hilltops with bridges and/or tunnels


Most Prominent Architectural Feature

84     81-84 Theatre 



The city of Saxherm was founded on a series of hilltops, each with its own guardian spirit. As the burgeoning city spread between the hills, each court - each garden - each road - earned its own tutelary, carved in a distinctive style. Saxherm became known as a city of statues.


In the third century after its founding, flooded with the teachers and sophists of a neighbouring polity, the local faith was transformed. There were not countless gods of the road, there was one god of all roads. Then there was not a god of all roads, but a god of communications and travel - an archetype of trade and wayfaring. 

    The new faith found a home in the wealthy of the city - those who wished to look up-to-date and could afford the tutelage. The informal associations of sacred masons, iconographers and artisans gave way to well-connected sacred fraternities. The old Assembly and district regiments had bowed to the iconographers or been led by them in many matters. Assemblymen, municipal officials and regimental leaders saw a way to escape that influence now. 

    Through the fourth century, low-level conflict between the new faith and the old was the rule, as were ongoing spats between high and low. In time, however, temples to each of the archetypical deities were erected on each of the fortified hills, cementing their place in the hearts of Saxhermenes. The Assembly now largely overlapped the sacred fraternities; rather than blossoming in its own right, it withered once again into a junior partner.

    Each from their hilltop districts, the fraternities extend their rule of the city. Rather than all bowing to a given hierarch, a governing council made up of the heads of each regularly changes their chairman according to the calendar. (This is a complex thing, taking both lunar and solar influences into account, along with certain anniversaries and seasonal observances. Alterations to the calendar are fraught constitutional debates.) For a week it may be the shrewd-eyed grey-locked Matriarch who casts the final vote, then the sinister Grand Psychopomp, then a pale Vestal chosen by lot, then a masked Oracle from the copper domes of the Vatic Quarter.

    However, in the depths of the Plebeian districts, there are those who have never forgotten the Tutelary Deities. They petition for funds to maintain the statues and for a legal protected status, they decorate them with garlands of flowers, they leave coins in outstretched hands, they touch sponges soaked in wine or milk to stone lips. If this is condemned, it is generally as an unfortunate and stubborn superstition rather than as an appalling heresy. This minority is protected by a measure of civic pride in the statues, which are now an inseparable part of the city's character. The wealthy Assemblyman who has spent a lifetime in the Brethren of the Armed Ploughman will happily delve into his coffers to repair the statue of a tutelary deity he has only ever walked past. 


The traditional garb of Saxherm has taken a rather strange turn. A translation of philosophy into costume has taken place, and the custom is (for those who are not in some other uniform or practical garb) to wear an indication of the abiding technological influence on one's life on the person. This can be as simple as a smith wearing a sash decorated with hammers - but the owner of a textile company could as equally wear an embroidered badge showing a loom or a ledger. Foreign scholars have sometimes suggested that this Saxhermene custom could be an evolution of the tutelary concept, although all but the highest of the fraternities and religious societies embrace this form of dress. 


Aside from the numerous statues, Saxherm has been known as a clearing house for stolen goods. The Sodality of the Broken Threshold has long acknowledged the valour of the thief in challenging the wealthy and complacent; to steal, to trick, to count coup - these are sacred and praiseworthy acts. And the Sodality, in benevolent fraternal agreement with its peers, does not encourage too many sacred and praiseworthy acts in Saxherm itself, but will happily protect and assist the faithful of other lands. 


All this has meant that Saxherm is now a very well-to-do place (the Sodality of the Broken Threshold does not consider itself to be at all wealthy or complacent, but acknowledges its recent good fortune). Great wealth may be seen on the corners of the street, or in the new theatres. But someone must have stolen something they should not have. There are those in the Vatic Quarter who scream in the night with premonitions of what lurks among them. Plebeians and Society members alike have been set upon in the night and wake without knowledge of who they are. The lucky ones can still walk and eat. 


The statues have seen something, no doubt. But they aren't saying anything.